


Dance Me to the End of Love

by sweet_symphony0



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Ballet, Dancer Joe, Disordered Eating, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22778560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_symphony0/pseuds/sweet_symphony0
Summary: He got cast as main roles in student showcases, and the higher ups took enough notice that by the time he was sixteen, he was being told he had a promising career in any company that chose him. Work hard, was constantly drilled into him, work hard and you’ll make it. And work hard he did, and it paid off-when he was eighteen he was offered an apprenticeship with American Ballet Theatre.He signed a contract with them for a year, officially finding an apartment for himself to stay and at eighteen years old, was an (almost) working professional. The position wasn’t paid, none of the apprentice dancers were, but it was a step in the right direction. Within a year, if he was lucky, he had his sights set on the Corpse de Ballet. The dream. It was happening.Until it all came crashing down.----Joe is a professional ballet dancer, with dreams so close in his reach, he'll do anything to catch them. It becomes a lot more complicated than he ever imagined.
Relationships: Rami Malek/Joe Mazzello
Comments: 28
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am in no way affliated with American Ballet Theatre, or Joffrey Ballet School. This is a work of pure fiction, based on characters' public personas. This story does have mentions of eating disorders and disordered behaviors, so if that's triggering, please take care.

Joe can remember his first exposure to ballet. It was through Mary, when his mother had brought him on her hip to teach one of Mary’s toddler lessons, and he could make out the faint sight of pink leather. He liked the brightness of colored shoes, the wooden floors, and the mirrors all around. And as the years went by and his mother stopped carrying him on her hip and he could eventually walk on his own, he too, decided he wanted to spend his hours in rooms full of mirrors and wooden floors. 

And as he got older and he learned what ballet was outside of pink tights and black leotards, he discovered that boys could do it too. He wanted to be like them, watching the 9 year old boys twirling on their tiptoes and moving in a way he had never seen the boys on the playground move. He was enamoured. 

He enrolled in boys beginner class when he was six, and it wasn’t anything more than a half hour of some stretching and running around. But he liked it, it got his energy out, and he made some new friends. His mother didn’t think his newfound interest would go any further that that once the year was over. 

How wrong they all were. 

The classes continued as the years went by, and when he was nine, he was taking class three times a week. He was still an actor of course, and took time off to shoot Jurassic Park, and spent a few years in front of a camera. But by the time he was twelve, he was full time ballet, in pre-intensive courses, training heavily during the school year and taking summer intensives at Joffrey Ballet and Steps on Broadway. By the time he was fifteen, he was a full time student at Joffrey, taking high school courses online and dancing five days a week, 8 hours a day. He was lucky that his parents were supportive, owning a studio themselves that Joe used to practice when he was home. His parents were his greatest strength, pushing him when he wanted to quit, spending endless hours helping him stretch, reassuring him through all the pain, and wiping away his tears when it all became too much. But he knew he wanted it. More than anything. 

Joffrey was an incredible school with a regiment so strict Joe sometimes felt he joined the military rather than a ballet school. None of his old dance friends had continued their training to the extent he did, but that was okay. He had new friends, but he wasn’t sure some days if they were truly friends or competition. He knew the stories of how cutthroat schools could be, that tensions could run high and jealousy ran rampant. He’d seen girls find glass in their pointe shoes and boys glare at each other in the showers, and tried to stay out of anyone’s way. He was just there to dance, nothing else. 

He knew the whispers about himself, that terms like “teacher’s pet” and “show-off” were tossed his way, and that he was only admitted to Joffrey because his parents had paid for him to get in rather than his own determination and hard work. He saw the glares thrown his way when he was asked to demonstrate something, or was picked for roles in performances. It was pressuring, not to mention petty, and Joe always kept the mentality of letting his dancing show the work he did, not his words. It was no secret that he stayed in the studios past hours, showed up to class early, and pushed his body past what was healthy. He strived to be the best in every aspect that he could, the lightest on his feet, with the strongest fouette turns and most elegant leaps. And it worked: he got cast as main roles in student showcases, and the higher ups took enough notice that by the time he was sixteen, he was being told he had a promising career in any company that chose him. _Work hard_ , was constantly drilled into him, _work hard and you’ll make it._ And while Joe knew it came down to a few more things than just that, because everyone worked hard there, work hard he did, and it paid off-when he was eighteen he was offered an apprenticeship with American Ballet Theatre. 

He signed a contract with them for a year, officially finding an apartment for himself to stay and at eighteen years old, was an (almost) working professional. The position wasn’t paid, none of the apprentice dancers were, but it was a step in the right direction. Within a year, if he was lucky, he had his sights set on the Corpse de Ballet. The dream. It was happening. 

Company life, he discovered, was wildly different than school life. In school, teachers were patient, expressing their desire for the students to learn quickly, and correct mistakes when given, whereas companies already expected dancers to know their mistakes and correct them, and to pick up choreography quickly. Everyone was supportive and kind, rather unlike school where it felt like your closest friends could be competition, climbing over one another to get to the top. It was fast-paced, much more demanding than school in that regard, and Joe knew no amount of schooling and training could ever mentally prepare you for full-time work. But he enjoyed it, he loved taking company class, even the early ones, and he loved learning as much as he could. It was common for last minute casting changes to happen, and if you knew the choreography, you would be sent on stage. Joe swore to himself he would be that person to rely on: who knew the choreography like the back of his hand; who could be the person to throw on a costume last minute and perform like he had been rehearsing for weeks. He thrived on it. He lived and breathed for it, it was an adrenaline rush not even acting could provide. 

He knew he could make it. He knew that with a little more patience and a few years of paying his dues, he could rise through the ranks. Of course none of it was guaranteed, injuries were common in ballet and Joe wasn’t anymore invincible to them than anyone else was. There was a sprained ankle that set him back one month, a tear in his back that took three months to heal. Joe reminded himself constantly to be patient, healing was key, because dancing in a company was so much more intense than in school. It required adjustments that he hasn’t previously had to make, like eating more to sustain his energy, taking ice baths in the evenings for his muscles, and visiting the physical therapist for a weekly massage. Anything to keep himself going, anything to be the best. Anything to be perfect. 

Until it all came crashing down. 

It was an offhand comment in the costume shop for a fitting: “Joe, this is...a little tight. Let me see if I can loosen it but if not we’ll just go up one size and tighten it from there.” 

_What?_

Joe froze and then once his brain came back online, he choked out, “What?”

Angela, one of the seamstresses, looked up from where she was measuring his waist. “Oh honey, it’s okay. You young ones, you think a little muscle mass is a bad thing. That’s all it is, Joe, it’s muscle. It’s a good thing, believe me. Means you can dance longer.” She reached for another pair of pants, waiting for him to put them on before she began to sew. “There, that’s much better, isn’t it? Try something for me, to see how it feels.”

Joe tried not to think too much as he went up on relevé, chaine, into attitude. It was a light, airy combination, and the pants were loose and flowing, harem pants that were easy to move in. The fitting, much to his discomfort, was perfect. “They’re good,” he finally gets out, observing himself in the mirror. “Comfortable to move in, anyway.”

“And that’s what we want,” Angela said. “You don’t want to feel it digging into your side in any way, that won’t be beneficial for you. Come back in two days and I’ll have them ready for the dress rehearsal.”

His body was on autopilot as they ran through the dress rehearsal, but he was able to pull it together for the performance. He was there to dance. He was there to prove to himself and everyone else in that auditorium that he could be there. He could do it. He would do it. If there was one thing Joe excelled at it, was putting on a show. He wasn’t sure if it was just his love for dance, or it was that he spent his formative years in front of a camera, that trained him to perform regardless of how he felt. Though, he admitted, dance did that way more than acting. 

He was alone in the studio, critiquing his routine as he stared in the mirror. Muscle mass was a good thing he knew, he knew dancers needed fuel to get them through 8 hours of dancing a day, and that required food. But as he stared at himself, he couldn’t help but get slightly overwhelmed, and decided it was time to hit the gym. An hour of lifting weights was just what he needed to reset his brain. 

He finds the gym does help. He starts going regularly in the mornings before barre, nothing too intense, just enough to loosen his limbs and straighten his mind out for the morning. He was a dancer for god’s sake, he didn’t need to be pushing it or his career would be over before it even began. 

Still, as he donned on his tights and shoes for barre, he wondered if there were more he could do. 

\---

He started filming his rehearsals pretty early on in his career, partly to look for mistakes, partly for when he was feeling down he could go back and look at himself getting lost in the movement. Ballet, as harsh as it was, as many bruises as Joe had littered all over his body, he knew he loved it. He loved it in all its sense of unforgiving resilience, pushing the human body beyond what was normal, to create an art form that existed like no other. The sadistic perfectionist in him watched the videos back, nitpicking what he could find, and practiced until the routine was flawless. He practiced until he could move without thinking about it, letting his body takeover and all he had to do was just _move_. It was freeing in a way that when he watched those videos back, he never failed to smile. 

“Lift your ribs up!” Maryanne called out in their apprentice rehearsal that morning. “Kaitlyn straighten out that left arm, watch when you’re turning, and Joe, watch that back left leg-” She didn’t get to finish because Joe knew, he could feel his left leg lagging, and he pushed it up to 90 degrees. “There you go, good!” 

Kaitlyn wobbled off her shoe and Joe quickly reached an arm out to steady her around her waist, and she squeaked as they both stumbled a bit. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry! Joe, you okay?” 

“Fine,” Joe said, smiling at her easily. “What happened, you were off center?”

“I wasn’t on my box fully, I couldn’t get up in time. Can we go again?” 

Maryanne nodded and signaled to their piano accompaniment to start back up. “Let’s try it again, really use that strength in your hips and core to lift up. Ready? And…” 

The last fifteen minutes of class were spent on technical training, and Joe really felt like he’d been put through the ringer, because he could feel his quads shaking. He was zipping his bag up and was about to leave when he heard Maryanne saying “Joe? Can you stay for a minute?”

Joe frowned in confusion but nodded, hanging back as his fellow apprentices waved to him, promising to meet up with him later. Maryanne took a seat next to him on the floor and now Joe was really shocked. “How are you doing, Joe?”

“I’m okay,” Joe managed to squeak out. “I’m still having some trouble with Jewels routine but I think I can get it-”

”That's not what I meant, sweetheart,” Maryanne said. “A few of us have noticed you’re looking a little down in class. Your work is exquisite, and always has been, but something else is off. Is everything alright?” 

“It’s fine...I just haven’t been getting enough sleep and the mornings are hard. I haven’t figured out how to adjust my schedule for it yet.”

“Well make sure you do, the sooner the better,” Maryanne said. “because there’s another matter I want to discuss with you: the apprentice spring showcase.” Joe’s breath caught. “There are people who have their eye on you Joe, so this is your chance to show what you can do.” Joe didn’t have to ask who _people_ were. “You can make it here, and you will. You just have to prove it to them.” 

Joe met her gaze steadily. “I will.” 

“That’s what I like to hear. You have the talent, so stop doubting it. And there’s one more thing before you go. Your physique has changed a little bit, and I wanted to talk about it with you.”

Joe inhaled. “Okay.”

“Obviously you know ballet has always held this type of look attached to the art form, and while it has changed recently, there’s still a standard to be had when it comes to the dancers. You’re not unhealthy by any means, but your body is going to change and gain more muscle the more you dance. The regiment here is so different to school because as an apprentice, the workload is much higher. I want you to be aware of it, because I’m seeing it already. A little weight gain is a great thing, it’s healthy even. But don’t let it get too far.” 

Joe’s heart was in his mouth. “Okay. I understand.”

“Honey, I need you to understand something,” Maryanne said. “This isn’t punishment. This isn’t me telling you you’re too big by any means, because you’re not. You’re _healthy_ and strong, and I’d like to keep it that way. Be a little more mindful of what you eat, talk to one of the nutritionists. But don’t go down a route that’s dangerous. Don’t starve yourself, don’t count your calories, don’t look at eating as anything other than fuel for your body. You need it. I’d hate to see you go down a route you can’t come back from, alright?” 

Joe had heard too many horror stories of dancers starving themselves and quitting their careers and he knew it was a big reason there was such a stereotype that all dancers were anorexic. This field was so aesthetic centered, and it was hard not to spiral down into thoughts of self-doubt. It wasn’t a road he wanted for himself. 

“I got it,” he said finally. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The Apprentice Spring Showcase was an annual event held in April, something that was open to all the apprentice’s families and ballet masters, as a chance to show their strengths and potential for joining the company. The performance he and the other six apprentices were doing were excerpts of Giselle, and Joe was elated. Also terrified. With eight months to go, he knew he needed to really up his training, and started filing away time where he could get a few workouts in. Class didn’t start till 10am so that gave him plenty of time to wake up early and get a good amount of stretching and cardio in, just enough to feel energized in time for company class. 

He didn’t even realize when he increased his days from three times a week to five, working with one of the trainers ABT provided. He didn’t use one of the nutritionists on the staff, but he did download MyFitnessPal to track his workouts and the calories he burned. He didn’t use it to track food, because he knew how dangerous that route could be. Counting calories often had negative side effects for him, because he got too wrapped up in the numbers. He’d tried it years ago, when he first started at Joffrey, and decided it wasn’t for him. He wasn’t about to start it back up.

\---

_One, two, three four, step, turn, don’t tighten your shoulders-_

Joe hated petit-allegro. It was his nemesis, which is why it was something he constantly worked on. This combination was something straight out of his worst nightmares. 

“Joe, watch when you jump, use that plie, point your feet!”

Joe grit his teeth and pushed through his quads and knees, gaining momentum as he jumped, and managed to point his feet before he changed sides, trying to keep track of what his arms were doing. But it was too much, he was getting lightheaded, and the room suddenly spun. 

He’d had a workout this morning in addition to class, and now he was in a solo training session with Maryanne, working on the part of Albrecht, since he was performing the Act II Pas de Deux at the showcase. 

There were five months left to go, and Joe didn’t feel nearly as prepared as he should be. He was getting told he was doing well, he was elegant and clean in his dancing, and there was always room for improvement. 

But god, he was tired. He hadn’t eaten today, after all. 

The room spun and he stopped, clutching the wall for support before he tumbled. “Hang on,” he panted. “I just need...need a minute.” 

“Are you okay?” Maryanne asked, brow furrowed. “Sit down.” And it took everything in Joe not to immediately collapse to the floor, insteading reaching for the water bottle she held in her hand. “Joe, we’ve talked about this. You’re not invincible, you’ve got to pace yourself. Did you eat today and last night?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah, I think it might just be my sugar levels. And I need water, I’ll be fine.” 

Maryanne forgoed the water and handed him an isotonic drink instead. “Drink, you need the electrolytes.” And she sat down on the chair in the corner, watching as he dug a protein bar out of his bag. “Honey, remember when we talked about your weight? You look great, but are you taking care of yourself? I don’t need you fainting at the showcase. Don’t make me recast you.” 

Joe smiled, ripping the wrapper apart before taking a bite. “I’m fine, I swear. Just a little lightheaded.” She didn’t need to know he spent entirely too long choosing these protein bars because they had 16 grams of protein in a 160 calorie bar. She also didn’t need to know it was the only thing he’d eaten today, eating one for breakfast and the other for lunch, along with a fruit smoothie with protein boost. He sustained himself with water and salads, cutting carbs most days, despite dancing almost seven hours a day, six days a week. It wasn’t healthy, he knew, but he was losing weight and being praised for it. He wasn’t scrawny by any means, but he was lean now, whereas he’d been bulkier before. He looked toned, lean, clean, and _light_. He felt better than he ever had, despite the tiredness and dizziness. He just had to push through it. He needed to be the best for the showcase. 

Joe stood back up. “Let’s go again. I need to straighten my knees out and I’m losing balance when I shift my weight.”

“Alright. So give that one more go, and then let’s work on your turns before calling it a day. Ready?”

And as Joe started the combination back up, there was only one thought running through his head as he watched his movements in the mirror.

He _would_ get into this company as a full time member. He would. 

Even if it killed him. 

\---

Water weight was quick and easy to dispel, he discovered. He could chug two bottles of water and be full for a few hours without having to eat, and if he needed energy, he drank coffee or an afternoon energy shake. Lean proteins filled him up and gave him enough energy without needing to eat big meals. Salads became his daily lunch, fish and chicken with quinoa his dinner, protein bars a snack. All in all the amount of calories? Less than 1500. He was playing a dangerous game and he knew it. But he couldn’t stop. Not when he felt so good, so powerful, so in _control_. 

People praised him. The ballet masters told him how elegant and free he looked when he danced because of his new physique, company members gushed about lean he looked, muscular without being too bulky. He had eyes on him and knew there were rumors of things that might come to be. Movements suddenly seemed so much easier, as felt like was floating, dancing without trying. Joe chased that feeling, he ached for it. 

But he was keenly aware he was damaging himself. 

Everyday his stomach ached from the need for food, headaches were a daily occurrence, he could barely focus in classes. He was pretty sure the only reason he was still going was because his body was autopilot when he danced, and caffeine did wonders. He knew everything came down to the spring showcase for the apprentices, and he would leave no amount of effort behind, no stone untouched in his performance. 

He was in an empty studio, practicing the Pas de Deux with Kaitlyn, who seemed to be his main partner these past few months. He liked her, they got along well together, and had chemistry that made dancing with her easy. And, to Joe’s chagrin, she was pretty. _Very_ pretty. 

They were rehearsing one of the lifts when Joe knew he didn’t have it. He hadn’t lifted her with enough strength, hadn’t had the energy to go on after rehearsing all morning. It was inevitable as he stumbled as he lost his balance, and they both tumbled to the ground. Joe lay flat on his back, heaving.

“Shit,” he gasped out. “Shit, Kaitlyn. I’m so sorry. You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Kaitlyn was already sitting up with a grin, and tossed him one of the bars he kept in his bag. “Watch your weight, Joe. You didn’t lift through your torso, did you?” He _had_ , as a matter of fact, but was losing muscle mass and strength due to restricting. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” Joe forced a smile. “Just need to go lift more weights I guess. I’ll get it and I won’t drop you at the showcase, I promise.” 

Kaitlyn rolled her eyes, scooting closer to him so their shoulders were touching. “That’s why we practice. And Joe, you don’t need to worry about the showcase. You already know you’re going to be offered a contract, you must know that. You must've heard what they’re saying. You’re so talented, of course you’re going to be asked to join.”

“You don’t know that. I don’t know that.”

Kaitlyn scoffed, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah, alright. I have a feeling it’ll happen for you, Joe. Everyone watches when you dance.” She kissed his cheek before getting up to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Take it easy. Maybe we can watch a movie tonight or something, if you’re down?”

Joe smiled. “Yeah, that would be great. Just nothing dance related, please.”

“What, you mean we can’t watch Center Stage? That is peak ballet cinema, Joseph, I’d expect an actor such as yourself to understand it.” And Joe laughed, waving as she picked up her bag and swung the door open. “I’ll text you. See you later!”

Joe watched her leave, opening up the bar as he did. He could feel his cheek warm from when she kissed him, and he blushed softly as he mulled over what she had said, wolfing the bar down. 

Everyone watches when you dance. 

_Everyone watches when you dance._

Joe would keep it that way.

\---


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pressure increases as the showcase draws closer, and Joe finds himself in a predicament. He rises and rises, only to come crashing down.

ABT had granted them one week off for Christmas break, and Joe felt so good to be home. He hadn’t seen any of his family for months, almost a full year, since he’d signed his contract. His mom had lent him the keys to the studio, and he’d taken to using the space in the mornings, before the 9am tots class. His mom sat on the floor of the studio, watching as he ran through a warmup. 

“You’re gorgeous,” she said in awe as she watched as he extended his leg into developpé, into second, and up towards an extension. “Beautifully done.” 

Joe blushed. “Thanks.” 

“How’s working life?” 

“It’s great. Just really tiring but I wouldn’t want it any other way. Did I tell you we’re doing Giselle for the showcase?” 

“You did,” Ginnie beamed. “I’m so excited, I can’t wait to watch you.” 

Joe switched sides, watching himself as he lowered down into penché, making sure to point all the way through the arch of his foot. “You’re coming right?”

“Of course I am! We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Joe smiled, hiding his blush again. “It’s hard but I think it’ll go well. We’ve been preparing for months now.” 

“I can’t wait,” Ginnie said again. “Watch your hips honey, they’re not square.” Joe had gotten distracted by his feet and sure enough, his hips were misaligned. “I feel like there’s so much I want to talk to you about and ask. I haven’t seen you in months.” 

”Well,” Joe grunted as he eased himself out of the stretch, settling back at the barre. “Ask away.” 

The one thing he always adored about his mother was how conversational she was. She had a talent for being anyone’s friend, and Joe knew he was very lucky to be able to talk to her about anything. Most nineteen-year-olds wouldn’t want anything to do with their parents, but Joe credited all his success to them. He didn’t know what he’d do without them.

“Come sit,” Ginnie said once Joe was properly sweating. “Take a minute.” Joe sat gratefully, taking a minute to catch his breath, pulling a pair of sweatpants over his tights to keep warm. “There’s no need to push yourself too much, you’re on break.” 

Joe shook his head. “I know but I still need to practice the Pas de Deux. I want to have it ready for when we get back because it’s not yet. And I don’t have a lot of time before we perform it.” 

Ginnie took his left foot and began to stretch out his arch, pointing his feet down with gentle pressure. It was something Joe was so used to but it never got any less painful, and he winced. “I have faith in you, Joe. Let me run the classes for the day and maybe in the afternoon I can help you rehearse your part. How’s that?” 

Joe watched as she eased up and began to massage the balls of feet, nearly melting at the feeling. “Sounds good. Do you want me to teach the beginner class or is that covered?” 

“No, by all means, please take it. I’d love it if you taught them. What better inspiration to work hard than your teacher being a professional dancer?” 

Joe grinned. That did have a nice ring to it. “Not professional yet.”

“No, but close. You’ll get there.” When Joe didn’t respond, she stared intently. “You will, Joe.”

“Maryanne has hinted at it,” Joe admitted. “But you know nothing is guaranteed. Someone who’s twice as talented could come in tomorrow and that’ll be that. I don’t want to hope for something that might not happen until I actually have a professional contract.” 

“And how’s everything else? Are you sleeping? I know you mentioned you weren’t before. And are you eating enough?”

Joe smiled endearingly. “Of course, mom.”

“Smart. Now, let’s get out of here, you’re mopping the floor before the next class for the kids.” Ginnie eyed him sternly. “Yes?” 

Joe bit back a groan and went to grab the mop from the storage closet. 

\---

She didn’t believe him for one second, Joe knew, so he took to wearing baggy clothes around the house to hide his body. He continued it even at rehearsals once he was back at ABT, and when he was asked about it, he just said he wanted to wear layers to warm up. The dress code for all male dancers was the typical white t-shirt and black tights, and Joe switched it with a black shirt on the days he knew he didn’t have a choice in not dressing in hoodies for rehearsals. 

In addition to the showcase, they were also putting on a production of Jewels, and as an apprentice, Joe was dancing in diamonds and emeralds. Jewels was a three act ballet, consisting of Diamonds, Emeralds and Rubies, and it was one of his favorites. It was a lot he knew, but it was the kind of pressure he was grateful to have. It gave him a chance to show he could handle himself under a heavy workload, to show that he could learn choreography from multiple shows at once and know his steps. He spent countless hours watching the taping of performances to learn each show, because there were only so many hours he could practice in during class. He’d go back to his apartment and study the performances, staying up late to make sure he knew the three different routines until he had them memorized. He didn’t stop until he had them down flawlessly, and was able to execute each in class. He hated feeling that there might’ve been more he could do to prepare in a role, something that had been ingrained in him since childhood, but he was glad he had the work ethic he had.

“Well done,” Maryanne praised, watching as he rehearsed Diamonds in the morning with the other apprentices. “I think you guys will be fine. Let’s run it one more time before we move into Emeralds and Rubies. Then we’ll finish with Giselle and you’ll be free to go.”

Joe was drenched with sweat, having spent his mornings in private rehearsals with Kaitlyn, who kept throwing him concerned glances every half hour when she thought he wasn’t looking. 

“You okay?” She asked worriedly when they were on break. “You’re breathing really hard.” 

“I’m fine,” Joe shrugged. “Just getting a little tired, that’s all. And I’m not in Rubies, so I’ll have a break while they rehearse that.” 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, Katie.” Joe tried to reign in his irritation as he grabbed a water bottle and chugged it. “I’ll take a minute and be good to go again.”

And he was. The rest of rehearsal went smoothly, and Joe was feeling proud when he saw everyone with matching smiles on their faces. They could do this. They _would_ do this. The showcase was four months away now, and it really felt it was all coming together. For the first time, Joe was feeling excited rather than stressed. Learning two ballets at once wasn’t an easy feat, after all, and he felt he was secure in knowing both of them after three months of stumbling. 

“Joe?” Kaitlyn wouldn’t let up, even later that evening. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” Joe said, flexing his feet out as he stretched on the floor of his room. “Can I get you something? Water, chocolate, ice cream even?” 

“Joe, you’re lactose intolerant.” 

“So? That’s never stopped me, and I don’t intend to start now. There’s some mint chip in the freezer if you want it.” 

“I’m good, thanks.” Kaitlyn took a seat on the floor next to him, admiring his movements for a minute. “But...I wanted to talk to you because I’m a little worried about you.” Joe furrowed his brow. “And I’ve been debating a while to say something because it’s not my place usually and you seemed fine but I keep watching you lose energy-”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Katie?” 

“Joe,” Kaitlyn rushed out. “Are you eating?” 

Joe laughed breezily, thanking the heavens he had acting training. Really, he should have expected this. “Yeah, of course I am. Kind of a weird question to ask someone, isn’t it?”

“Not really, no. Not when I see you shaking and living off a chicken breast with steamed vegetables for lunch and a protein bar for breakfast.” 

“Whoa, what? What the hell?”

“And then you don’t eat for hours! We dance for seven hours a day and you sustain yourself with a protein bar! That’s not eating Joe, that’s starving!”

“Katie,” Joe said. “I promise I’m fine. I snack a lot, those bars are filling and they keep me going.” 

“Joe, that’s bullshit and we both know it. You starve yourself and that’s not healthy!”

“Can you drop this for fuck’s sake?”

“No!” Katie cried. “Because I’m worried, I’m scared you’re going to faint one day. You wear baggy sweats to class and refuse to take them off, Joe I’m not stupid. I know the signs of what it looks like to hide yourself like that.”

Joe sighed. “Katie...please don’t worry about me. I swear I’m fine, I just need to pace myself. And I workout a lot, you know that, that’s why I’m tired.”

“Right, so all those workouts and that’s why you dropped me the other day, is it?” 

Joe stared, aghast. “I wouldn’t drop you if you helped in lifting your weight, it’s not easy you know.”

There was a beat of silence as they stared at each other. He regretted the words the second they were out of his mouth, seeing the hurt in Kaitlyn’s eyes. 

“Fuck you,” Katie inhaled, her voice trembling. “I’m trying to help but you don’t want it, then I’ll go. Fuck you, Joe.” She got up, opening the door before turning back to look at him. “Be honest, if I looked in your freezer, would I really find that mint chip ice cream in it, or is that bullshit too like everything else you’ve told me?” When Joe didn't say anything, she snorted, shaking her head. “Thought so.” And she shut the door on the way out, leaving Joe with a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Their rehearsal the next morning was icy, and if Maryanne noticed, she didn’t say anything. They performed adequately, they were professionals after all, but they didn’t say a word to each other the entire time. 

“Sleepy start?” Maryanne asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Something like that,” Kaitlyn threw a quick glare his way. 

“Wake up, please. Run it again.” 

When it came time for the lift, Joe could feel Kaitlyn tensing slightly and she jumped as he lifted her, but it wasn’t needed. Joe lifted her as if it were easy as breathing and when they fell into the rest of the choreography, Maryanne beamed. 

“Beautiful! And get to your spots-yes, good!” 

She didn’t have to make any more corrections for the rest of the routine, and Maryanne knew there had been a reason she’d picked these two to partner together for the Pas de Deux. Watching with a smile so wide her heart was thudding, she knew she had made the right call. They might only be apprentices now, but she knew. They would take everyone’s breath away. 

“That was,” Maryanne clapped her hands together excitedly. “That was spectacular, both of you. I don’t want to run it again, I think we’ll stop there. Be proud of yourselves, you keep dancing like that and the showcase will feel like nothing.”

Joe blushed, ducking his head down and glancing at Kaitlyn, who looked just as pleased. “Thank you, ma’am.” 

Joe found it ironic that their best rehearsal yet had been one after a fight, but then they maybe not. They expressed their emotions through movement, never through words. Maybe they had been speaking the wrong language.

Maryanne left after, needing to run through a principal class, and it was Kaitlyn and Joe in the room. Katie wasn’t saying a word, packing her bag silently in the corner.

“Katie-”

“Was the lift okay? Did my prep jump help you?”

Joe’s mouth was dry. “Yeah. It did, but you don’t have to-”

“No,” Kaitlyn zipped her bag up, slinging it over one shoulder. “I’ll keep doing that. Easier for you. And it’s not fair for you to be lifting dead weight like that.”

Joe winced. He deserved that. “Kaitlyn, please. Please stay a minute.” 

Kaitlyn shook her head, already opening the door. “I’ll see you later, Joe.” 

“Katie!” 

She spun around, fuming, dropping her bag with a thud. “ _What_ , Joe? What the fuck do you have to say that I’m going to be forced to listen to?” 

Joe sighed, but he crossed the room so he was next to her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said and I crossed a line. I didn’t-I was angry and taking it out on you, and I’m sorry. You’re my friend, I shouldn’t have insulted you like that.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Kaitlyn said. “Friends don’t do that to each other, and more than that, you’re my partner for this routine, Joe. And if it goes well and we get selected into the Corpse, we’ll probably be partners for the rest of our careers. I need to be able to trust you, and be able to rely on you. I can’t do that if you don’t take care of yourself.” She eyed him, looking at his t-shirt and sweatpants he’d worn. “Apology not accepted yet. This showcase is important to me, and I know it’s important to you too. I’m not letting you jeopardize it, we only have three months left. I don’t care how you do it, but pull yourself together.” 

Joe exhaled, staring at his reflection, thinking about how he should be stretching. “I will. I swear. I’m sorry, again, even if you don’t accept it.”

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have pushed like that when you weren’t ready. Will you be okay?”

Fight as they did, they were still friends.

Joe smiled. “I’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

And when it was just him left in the studio, he stripped off the sweatpants, leaving him in his just tights he had on underneath. Propping his phone up and hitting the record button, he pressed play on the CD player they kept in the corner of the room. He started it over again, letting himself get lost in the routine, feeling his muscles move perfectly in time with the music. 

One more time before he hit the gym. 

\---

It wasn’t long before he discovered he couldn’t look in the mirror anymore. He found it ironic. A dancer, who’s living is based on looking at themselves for corrections, couldn’t look in the mirror. 

He hated what he saw. 

Of course he had to deal with it, it was part of the job, and Joe knew he wasn’t alone in the feeling. Plenty of dancers were insecure about their bodies, it was hard not to be in a field that was determined by aesthetics. But Joe also knew times were changing, dancers were urged to be strong and not just skinny, where the stamina was needed to get through a full show plus hours of rehearsal. That didn’t stop him from chugging two bottles of water in substitution for food, though. It didn’t stop his brain from running a million miles a minute, making him spiral into thoughts of self-doubt. It didn’t do any favors for his depression.

He stared at himself in the mirror, dripping wet from a shower, peeking at the faint outline of his ribs because he could see them now. He felt oddly proud, like this was some sort of hidden achievement he’d unlocked, and that it was a step closer to gaining control. He couldn’t control whether he got a place in this company or not, but he could control his body and his dancing.

It was the night time when he was alone that the thoughts of self doubt assaulted his brain, not letting him sleep. He lay awake, wondering if he were good enough, talented enough, even though he knew logically he was. But something in him was dying, and it frightened him. He felt empty sometimes when dancing, in the quieter moments. It came at full force when he didn’t have dance as a distraction, and he often would get up to stretch if he couldn’t sleep or the thoughts became too much. He twisted his body in certain directions, his ribs were more prominent, and logically he knew that it wasn’t healthy. This wasn’t what he should be aiming for. He could hear Maryanne’s voice ringing in the back of his head about how this wasn’t a good idea. 

_Just until the showcase_ , he thought, getting dressed. _Let me get through the showcase and then we’ll stop._

Of course that wasn’t what ended up happening. He stopped looking in the mirror during rehearsals, telling Maryanne that there wouldn’t be any mirrors during the performance to rely on, so why would he rely on them now, with the showcase a month away? He relied on his body instead, all of his technique, his training, and the occasional correction Maryanne threw at him. And it worked. He felt so in tune with his body, moving in the way he knew how, and with the showcase coming up quicker with each day, the more confident he felt that he and Kaitlyn would nail it. It was a good feeling, a feeling that he could do this. 

Kaitlyn beamed at him once rehearsals were over and they were headed to company class. “Good job.”

Joe grinned. “Thanks! You too. You think...think we got it?”

Kaitlyn paused and then nodded. “Yeah. yeah, I think we do.” 

The fitting took place a week before the showcase, and when Angela went to greet him with his costume, she clicked her tongue. “You’ve lost weight. Joseph, you have lost weight.” And she thrust the costumes into his hands. “Go change. I’ve got your Jewels costumes as well.” 

Jewels was running the day after the showcase for two weeks, so Joe wouldn’t really have time to stay on the high of performing with his fellow apprentices after the performance, because they were needed immediately the next night. Learning two ballets had initially seemed like a lot, but now Joe was comfortable and prepared, dare he even say excited.

“Honey, what are you doing? This is two sizes too big on you,” Angela said, shaking her head as she pinned the costume in place. “All of these will need alternation, come back next week on Monday and I’ll have them.”

Joe nodded, secretly elated. “Sure.” 

“And get some food in you, darling, you need it.” 

Joe laughed, blushing. “Whatever you say, Angela.”

But he felt good. Starving himself gave him drive, a challenge to see how long he could go without giving in. It was a game and a thrill-seeking one at that, and Joe loved it. 

The night of the showcase, Joe spent the morning vomiting up his non-existent breakfast, he was so nervous. Everyone would be watching: his parents, the ballet masters, the rest of the company. He had to prove himself. The pressure was insurmountable: it was the biggest night of his life, at nineteen years old. Everything he worked for, accumulating to this moment. 

He knew his parents were in town, so was his little brother, but he had no time to see them before the show later. He had class to get to, warmups to go through, stretching to do. He wasn’t taking any liberties when it came to preparation today. 

Brian, one of the ballet masters, cornered him after company class that morning. “Joe, just wanted to say good luck today. I’ve been hearing good things, I’m looking forward to watching everyone later.” 

Joe knew it was no small compliment. Brian was the head of the company, had the final decision in who got chosen for contracts and who moved up into higher positions. If Brian Adler was taking notice of tiny Joe Mazzello, well then, maybe he had been doing something right. 

“Thank you, sir,” Joe squeaked out, trying and failing to keep his cool. “It’s a privilege to dance tonight in front of everyone, I’m so excited.” And he smiled at Brian and watched as he walked away, his heart pounding. 

“Dude,” Michael said, one of his fellow apprentices. Joe could hear the combination of shock and envy in his voice. “That was-”

Joe swallowed, suddenly feeling his chest constrict. “Yep. Yep.” 

He didn’t work out that day, didn’t rehearse with anyone once company warm up was done. The rest of the company had rehearsal for Jewels, but apprentices were excused due to the performance that evening. Instead, he sat in the sauna, loosening his muscles and went for an hour massage with ABT’s physical therapist. It calmed him, and by the time he was getting dressed, he was relaxed and ready. His job was to put on a show, and a show he would give. 

As 7pm rolled around, he tried not to think about how the entire Metropolitan Opera House would full company members, the masters, all their families, watching them. Kaitlyn and Mindy found him backstage in the wings, joining him on the floor as he stretched, and he watched as they laced up their pointe shoes. 

“How do you feel?” Joe asked Mindy. He had rarely partnered with her, as her usual partner was Michael. He’d seen the two of them together, they were good and solid as a pairing, but Joe knew Michael had a bit of an ego. “You guys have the entrance.” 

“Ugh,” Mindy groaned and Kaitlyn smiled in amusement. “Don’t remind me, I’m so nervous. Excited too, but nervous. I want this to go well, for everyone.” 

“It will,” Kaitlyn said. “You know what to do and even if your brain forgets a step, your body won’t. Don’t overthink it and you’ll be great.” She glanced at Joe. “Right?” 

“Right,” Joe smiled. “Let’s go kill it and show everyone in the audience why we deserve contracts.” 

As he waited in the wings, hearing the music start up, the curtains go up, and watching Mindy and Michael make their first entrance, he thought back to what Kaitlyn had told him all those months ago. 

_Everyone watches when you dance._

Would they still, after tonight?

\---

Joe lived for this feeling. He lived for the feeling of applause after a performance, feeling like he was on cloud nine from knowing he’d left everything he had on the stage. When they took their bows, holding Kaitlyn’s hand as she curtsied, he spotted his family in the second row, the first ones to stand up. He watched as more followed: the company members, Brian and Maryanne, the other families. Everyone. A standing ovation. He and Mindy exchanged identical looks of shock. 

And as the curtain came down, Kaitlyn flung herself into his arms and squealed as he spun her around. 

“We did it!” She screamed in his ear, the applause of the audience still being heard. “Joe, we did it!” 

“We did!” He laughed and put her back down, still holding her hips and without even thinking about it, he kissed her out of elation. It was quick, brief and he pulled away immediately, thinking horrified that he’d upset her, but instead she was grinning at him. 

She slung an arm around his waist despite how he was drenched in sweat. “We’re going to have amazing careers, Joe. I can feel it.” 

Joe smiled. He liked the sound of that. 

His parents found him later, waiting outside the dressing room with the other families. 

Joe grinned at his fellow dancers, hand on the doorknob as he waited to open it to their eager families on the other side. They were all changed now, still in their makeup but out of their costumes and in matching ABT sweatpants. “Ready?” They all nodded, and Joe flung the door open and cheers erupted from their loved ones as they emerged, beaming. But to their surprise, it wasn’t just their families, Maryanne was there too, clapping just as much as the rest of them. 

“Joe!” His mother cried, holding a bouquet of roses in her hand, his father and brother next to her. Joe threw himself into her arms tightly, feeling his dad join in on the other side. “Honey, you were so amazing, we’re so proud of you!” 

“Thanks,” Joe said, grinning. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it went so well.”

“All that work paid off,” Ginnie smiled at him warmly. “I told you it was going to be great.” 

“Joe?” Maryanne said, and he turned to look at her. “I’m so sorry to interrupt Mrs. Mazzello, I just need a minute with all the dancers.” 

“Of course,” Ginnie released him. “Joe, we’ll be here, let’s go out to celebrate when you’re ready.” 

Joe nodded and followed Maryanne back into the dressing room, finding a spot next to Mindy to sit. 

“I wanted to congratulate all of you on a job well done,” Maryanne said. “I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked these past months and truly, you should give yourselves a round of applause for what you’ve done tonight. That was spectacular and you should be proud. I know I am.” She started clapping and a few of them laughed as they joined in, and Joe grinned. He couldn’t stop smiling. “As you know, we still have business to attend to. Tomorrow we’re starting our run of Jewels, so please be prepared for that. I know all of you know your choreography by now, and we’ll do a dress rehearsal for a few things tomorrow morning. So go out, go celebrate tonight because you deserve it. You were so flawless and I do think you’re going to have long careers.” All six of them cheered as Maryanne dismissed them, and Joe met Kaitlyn’s eyes, unable to stop smiling. 

Whatever happened now, he would remember this moment for the rest of his life. 

\---

If the showcase was his peak, everything that followed was his inevitable crash. 

The pressure was on now, even more so than before. He felt like he was being watched more so now, having to prove himself again despite having done so time and time again. He didn’t want to assume anything, he didn’t want to think he was being given a contract until it was in his hands and he signed it. But it was hard to ignore the whispers, the stares, how Brian was attending company classes more and more to observe them. He threw himself into his work, pushing his body further, counting down every last calorie and chugging six water bottles a day. He was exhausted day after day, unable to sleep at night despite dancing enough to make anyone pass out. It didn’t help that he was getting told how amazing he looked by his fellow company members, that his dancing was top notch, that his contract would be arriving any day now. 

He couldn’t get out of bed on the weekends. He had no energy to move, to eat, to barely brush his teeth. He’d been with the company for a little over a year, and it was frightening to think that this wasn’t for him anymore. Dancing would always be his true love, but something in him had been stirring for weeks, telling him he was done. 

He was getting burnt out, and he hated it. Dancing professionally made him hate it, made him hate his body in ways he didn’t know about, he could barely stand to look in the mirror unless he absolutely had to these days. There was the thought in the back of his head that maybe his career was done, before it really began. 

It burdened him enough that one day when he was in the studio, he started to cry. Slow, silent tears, that ran down his face as gracefully as the way his body did when he moved. But he didn’t stop, he’d keep going until it killed him. 

And it was killing him, slowly. But he kept telling himself he was fine. 

It all came to a screeching halt the day he got called into Brian Adler’s office. 

“Joe, come in,” Maryanne said with a smile. “Please sit. We’d like to discuss your options with you for the upcoming year.”

Joe sat down, feeling sick. Was this it? Was the moment here?

Brian smiled and slid a packet of paper in his direction. At the top, Joe could read his name. “This is a contract with American Ballet Theatre as a professional dancer in the Corpse de Ballet, which is at-will leave, if you’d like to accept it. We like you Joe, we’ve watched you carefully over these past months and seen your growth, and seen your drive. We think you could be a real asset to our company one day. You were phenomenal at the showcase, and we were waiting for the right time to offer this to you.”

Joe was speechless, staring at the contract.This was what he wanted. A professional contract. What he worked so hard for all these years, why wasn’t he jumping for joy? “Thank you,” he whispered, in awe. “Thank you so much.” 

“Take a few days to think it over,” Maryanne said with a smile. “And get back to me. Congratulations, Joe. You deserve it.” 

Joe picked up the contract with trembling hands. “Thank you, ma’am.”

And as he closed the door behind him, holding the contract reverently, he felt tears prickling his eyes. He headed in the direction of the one place he knew he could calm down, running into Kaitlyn on the way over. 

“Joe?” She asked, staring at his expression, and the piece of paper dangling in his hand. “I heard...you too, huh? Congratulations.” 

Joe swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah...I still can’t believe it. You too, congratulations.” 

“We did it. We’re actually officially part of ABT as professional dancers. Like that’s our job.”

Joe forced out a laugh, feeling the tears start to well up. “I know. I was actually...headed to dance for a bit, so…I’ll see you later? Maybe we can...can watch Center Stage tonight.”

“That sounds nice,” Kaitlyn smiled at him. “Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not going to take the offer, are you?”

Joe sucked in a breath, staggering on his feet. “What? No, why...how-how do you-”

“You’ve not been okay for a while, Joe,” Kaitlyn said softly. “I see it. You’re so thin and so sick and you look unhappy. Like there’s no spirit in you anymore.”

Joe’s eyes welled up with tears, glistening. “I don’t...I just don’t know anymore, Katie.” 

“You don’t have to leave officially. Take some time off, come back in six months,” Kaitlyn inhaled. “I’d hate to see you go. You’re such an amazing dancer with an incredible career ahead of you, and I love dancing with you, but...please think it over before you do anything. Don’t give up on your dreams, Joe.” 

Were they his dreams anymore? 

“I don’t know,” Joe sighed. “I don’t know myself anymore, I feel like. I think I lost myself in all the dancing. It was all I focused on for so long that I just...lost it.”

“You’ll find it,” Kaitlyn said. “I know you will. But...take your time Joe. Make the right choice for you. I know you’ll do that.”

And when they looked at each other silently, standing in the hallway, Joe knew that she knew. She could see it in his expression.

Kaitlyn reached up to brush her lips against his in a soft kiss. “Goodbye, Joe. Keep in touch, okay?” 

Joe kissed back, soft and fleeting, ducking his head down as he nodded so she wouldn’t see his tears. “Goodbye, Katie.” 

To his surprise, the tears didn’t really start until he was on the train home, lightheaded and fatigued. By the time his house came into view, he was barely hanging on. He rang the doorbell and waited, watching when Ginnie swung the door open, her expression going from excitement, to concern, to shock and worry. 

“Joe? Joe, baby, what’s happened?”

_Everyone watches when you dance._

Not anymore. 

Joe sucked in a breath, trying to hold in his tears to no avail. “Mom, I...I can’t,” His voice cracked and he flung himself into his mother’s arms. Once the tears started, they couldn’t stop, and he was sobbing into her chest. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, guys! I'm so proud of this chapter, it's a bit of a heart breaker, I know, but I do hope you like it. Comments are so appreciated, please let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe goes into therapy, and starts taking steps towards recovery. He heads off to college and pursues acting, where his new career eventually lands him in Australia, with a curly haired, bright-eyed Egyptian named Rami Malek.

His life became a cycle of nutritionists, therapists, and medication. He wasn’t allowed to dance, which was fine with him for the time being. He couldn’t stand to be anywhere near a dance studio, almost ripping his shoes in half in a fit of rage that left in him sobbing on the floor. He hated dancing, hated ballet, and he hated that he hated it. 

Was this his life now? Who was he without ballet? 

“It’s not forever,” Joe said desperately to his mother as they drove to his therapist’s office. “Lots of people take breaks, I’ll get better and I’ll be back to dancing. Maybe not with ABT but other companies.” Ginnie was silent. “Right?”

His mother looked at him with a soft expression. “Oh, honey, don’t worry about that right now, you’re sick. I want you to get better first before we think about all that. It’s only been a few weeks, you need to give yourself time. And might be a good idea to explore other options, just in case.” 

_Other options?_

“What do you mean?”

The light turned green and Ginnie made a right turn. “I mean maybe college, Joe. You’re only nineteen, you could go to college if you wanted. Take some time to take a few community college classes and if you like those, maybe apply to a university.” She saw the panic on his face. “We don’t have to decide right now. I want to focus on your health first, and once you’re up to it, let’s decide what we’re doing.” She pulled into the parking lot and reached over to give him a hug when she spotted the tears building in his eyes. “You’re going to be okay, Joe. I promise you.”

Joe clung to her desperately, blinking rapidly. “It doesn’t feel like it will be. It’s been three months and I’m not better.”

“This takes time, baby,” Ginnie stroked his hair softly. “This isn’t going to go away on it’s own, it’s something you have to work towards, but we’re all here for you. You’re not alone, ok? Just because it’s been three months and you’re not dancing right now doesn’t mean you’ll never dance again. It doesn’t mean ballet is out of the picture for you, there are options we can explore. I know you’re hurting, and it feels like the world is ending, but it’s not. Sometimes things that happen to us happen because we need them to, but we don’t find out why until much later.” 

Joe sniffled, wiping at his tears impatiently. “I hate it.” 

“I know. I know. We’re going to get through this and you’re going to be healthy and go on to do amazing things.” She smiled at him. “Now, come, we don’t want to be late for your appointment.” 

\---

He wanted to dance. He wanted to dance more than anything, his body was itching for it. He wanted to move, to feel his muscles contracting and relaxing, to hear the sound of piano music floating through a speaker and into his bones. But he wasn’t allowed to. Instead he spent his time in therapy, talking about his eating disorder, his anger, his pain, and anything that came to mind. It helped, Joe had to admit, but he wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to prove himself, wanted to feel like he had a purpose again, to utilize his talents that he knew he had. His therapist was less impressed when he brought it up. 

Instead, she had said, try to focus on yourself and learning who you are outside of dance. He’d spent ten years identifying himself with dance, and now that he left it behind, what was left for him? The whole world, and nothing, all at the same time. Joe didn’t know how to grapple with it sometimes. 

He found himself taking comfort in movies again. Movies were an escape, a short term distraction that let him live outside of his grief for two hours at a time. And being in ballet, there had been lots of movies he’d missed over the years; now was the perfect time to catch up. 

“I watched Jurassic Park the other day,” Joe said, fidgeting in his seat in his therapist’s office. 

His therapist, Lisa, was a kind woman who had a good sense of humor and never tolerated any of his bad habits. After four months of working with her, he liked her, and knew coming to her had been beneficial despite his initial doubt. 

“You _did?_ How did that go?” Lisa smiled easily, clearly liking this choice of topic. “I thought you hated seeing yourself on screen.” 

“I mean,” Joe glanced down at his hands, fidgeting with his nails. “I do. But...I was nine. And I was thinking how that was the last movie I did before I pursued ballet full time.” He went silent and Lisa waited, sensing he had more to say. “And I don’t know...I don’t know why exactly I’m talking about this. I think it’s because watching my childhood like that was a really strange, formidable moment.”

“How so?”

“I don’t-I think I was a little sad thinking about how I stopped acting for ballet and always had the thought that I would go back to it eventually. But ballet always came first, and I knew it wasn’t going to be permanent. Dancers always have short lifespans, especially in the professional sense. And...and I knew that it would stop for me one day, just not...”

“Just not so soon,” Lisa finished for him, and he nodded, glancing out the window. “Joe, I think you’re not realizing that just because you’re not dancing professionally anymore, doesn’t mean dance is closed off to you permanently. There might be a way to keep it in your life in a _healthy_ way.” 

Joe laughed bitterly. “My mom said the same thing.”

“Smart woman.”

Joe exhaled. “I’m...I’m...I know. She’s right, and you’re right, and I know how miserable I was when I was there and I feel better now but...I miss it so much. I need it like air, it’s what keeps me sane.” 

“It’s not what keeps you sane,” Lisa said. “It’s what your eating disorder wants you to believe that keeps you moving forward. It’s what you’re used to, because it’s where you’re comfortable. That without ballet, you have nothing left in life to pursue, and that you have no talents laying elsewhere, which is not true. A perfect example is Jurassic Park. What did you think watching it? Were you thinking about how you shouldn’t have done that movie, and instead you should have been training?”

“No,” Joe admitted. “Though, when you say that, I’m sure that thought crossed my mind at least once during filming. I was always stretching during breaks, or finding a chair to use as a barre for warm ups.”

“So you weren’t focused on acting much, even while on a movie set.”

“I was,” Joe said, trying not to get defensive. “It was more...I love acting as well. But for so long, ballet was all I wanted. It was my top priority, even while I was acting.”

“And now that you’ve decided you’re taking a break from ballet for your health,” Lisa kept emphasizing his health, and he appreciated it. “You said before that you always knew you’d go back to acting again if you could. And if you were to do so, you wouldn’t be giving up on your ballet dreams, Joe. You’d be pursuing a new one, and that’s okay.” 

“I just…” Joe inhaled, rubbing at his chest, which was uncomfortably tight. “Everything I worked for, it feels like I threw it away. I had it. I knew I could go all the way, if I stayed with it.” 

Lisa smiled sadly at him. “Would you want that? Or does your eating disorder want you to believe that? Remember when we talked about distorted thoughts?” Joe was silent, staring at the floor. “You could have stayed, and we could sit here and talk about what-ifs all session. But when you first came to me, you told me how badly you wanted everything to stop. How depressed you were, how you didn’t want to dance because it didn’t bring you joy anymore. You could go back to dancing tomorrow, but would you be able to look in the mirror? Would you be able to dance for the pure love of it, or would you be critiquing everything you did?”

Joe swallowed. “Fuck. I’d be critiquing myself, definitely.” 

“Exactly,” Lisa nodded knowingly. “I want you to dance for yourself, not for your career. I want you to dance because as you said, you need it like air. I don’t want you dancing because you want to climb the ladder and be praised for it, and gain outward validation that way.”

Joe winced. “Yeah.”

“Let me ask you something,” Lisa said. “When you watched Jurassic Park, how were you feeling? What was the strongest emotion you had watching yourself on screen, remembering how you were at that age?”

Joe was silent, tongue in his throat, and he finally raised his eyes up to look at her. 

“Nostalgia.” 

\---

Joe should have expected it. He should have expected this to happen eventually, staring at the pamphlet of ACT prep courses and colleges his mom had laid out in front of him. She slid the NYU welcome brochure toward him. 

“Just think about it, okay? It might not be a bad idea, even if you go back to dancing, you can do this on the side.” 

Joe stared, feeling himself panicking. “Do you-you think I won’t dance full-time anymore?”

“I didn’t say that,” Ginnie said gently. “But you know we discussed with your doctors and your therapist that you’ve got to take at least a year off from dancing, and in that time, you’ve got to do something. College would be great for you, a whole world opened up to you outside of ballet, it might be a nice change of pace. And you might find something outside of dancing that you really love.”

Joe nodded. 

Ginnie studied him. “Joe? What do you think? You don’t have to decide now, I just thought it would be good to start thinking about it potentially.”

Joe felt tears sting his eyes. “Okay.” 

Ginnie softened. “Oh honey,” she said as tears began to fully form in Joe’s eyes, glistening. “I know, baby. It’s a lot. It’s a big change, but change isn’t a bad thing. This isn’t the end, you’re not giving up your dreams permanently. You’re putting them on hold until you’re healthy.”

“It feels like I’m giving up,” Joe swiped at his eyes. “Everything I worked for, I threw it away. Cause I...I couldn’t handle it.” 

“Come here,” Ginnie opened her arms and Joe went willingly, needing the comfort. “I would rather you never dance again in your life and be healthy, than dance professionally and be sick, tired, and starving constantly.” Joe let out a sob, and she shushed him, rubbing his back in small circles, feeling the bones there. “It’s okay, Joe, it’s going to be just fine. Your health is the most important thing, you know that. You can’t dance or act or do whatever else you want to do if you’re not healthy and eating.”

“I’m sorry,” Joe sobbed out. “I know...I don’t know why I’m like this. I hate it so much.”

“Don’t apologize,” Ginnie said. She kissed his temple. “You’re sick and hurting, but that doesn’t mean life stops. And you’re sick now, but that doesn’t mean you’ll never get better. You just need to give yourself time to heal. Be patient with yourself.” 

Joe whimpered. “What if I never find something I’m good at? Or that I love? What if ballet is it for me and that’s the only thing I’m good at?”

“ _No_ ,” Ginnie said firmly. “No, I won’t let you talk like that. People aren’t defined by their professions, or the thing they’re best at, nor are they only good at one thing. You’re so determined, and have such a strong work ethic, I’m sure you could thrive in so many things outside of dance if you tried. And let’s not forget what a talented actor you are, which not a lot of people can say.”

Joe smiled slightly and then sighed, burying his face in his mom’s chest, feeling like he was twelve again. “I know.”

Ginnie wiped away a stray tear from his cheek, rubbing his back again. “You’re going to get better, baby. This isn’t it for you, and I know it’s scary, but we all have to move on to new things eventually. And who knows? Maybe ballet will come back to you in a way you didn’t expect. But you have to be willing to open new doors, sweetheart. No one is going to do that for you.” He nodded, crying softly, and she kissed his forehead. “I know, baby. You’re going to be okay, I promise. You're so strong, and you’ll get through this. But you’ve got to let yourself heal first, then everything else will follow. That means following your meal plans and taking your medication, and talking to your therapist. Can we do that?”

Joe nodded again, still cuddling into his mom’s embrace. “Yeah. I'll try harder.”

“Good, thank you. And when you’re ready to think about more options, we’ll talk about it. But you do need to decide soon, because it’s not good for you to be sitting at home with nothing to keep your mind occupied. Alright?” 

Joe sighed and sniffled, staring at the stack of brochures in front of him. “Yeah, got it.” 

\---

The thing was, it wasn’t bad advice. He wasn’t able to dance for at least a year now, and he had all this time, so taking a class didn’t seem like a bad idea. What to take the class on though, that was the real question.

He started scouring for local acting classes in the area, ones that were maybe three or four times a week. It had been a long time since he’d acted, sure, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still do it. And, to branch out a little, he chose an introduction to law course at the local community college. And once the class started, he found he’d never lost his training. It was all still there, locked away, just waiting for the right moment to come back. After three weeks, he’d fallen in love with this world of creating characters and portraying them through his body and soul all over again. He’d forgotten this, he’d forgotten how it felt to love this craft after years of dedicating himself to ballet for so long. Ballet might have always been his first love, but that didn’t mean acting wasn’t a close second. And now that his life wasn’t so consumed by ballet, he had time to discover other parts of himself he had pushed aside. And while that thought initially left him with feelings of melancholy and fear and regret, he was now welcoming the change. It was nice, for once, to not be doing something that felt like he had to constantly be perfect in all ways, where he wasn’t critiqued for every little thing. He could just feel and be, and slip into the mindset of someone else. It was a good feeling, not being Joe Mazzello for a few hours at a time. Lisa would have a field day with that, much to his chagrin. 

He ordered his ACT books and started writing his personal essay. He started browsing colleges with acting programs, because he knew there wasn’t anything else other than dance he’d be interested in for a long term career. He took what tests he needed, got his recommendation letters, submitted all his applications, and waited. It was months before he started getting responses. 

Joe slid a brochure towards Ginnie, hesitant and nervous for how she would react. “What do you think?”

Ginnie stared. “The University of Southern California? Joe, that’s across the country.” 

Joe swallowed, nodding. “I-I know. But they have one of the top acting programs of the country, Mom. And...and honestly, I think I need to get out of New York for a bit.” 

“But...Joe, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, your treatment is here, your therapist, if something happens and god forbid-” 

“Nothing is going to happen, I wouldn’t be going until next year, and by then I should be alright-”

“Joe, you don’t know that,” Ginnie sighed. “Baby, I love that you’ve decided to do this, and I’m so proud, but I just don’t know if I like the idea of you going so far away. And of course I want to support you, but you’re still so sick-”

“Can you stop that? I know I’m sick, I know I have this and it’s ridiculous and I hate it, but I’m getting better. It’s not all I am and I’d appreciate it,” Joe rubbed his temples, feeling the familiar stinging sensation in his eyes that seemed to be an almost daily occurrence now. “If you stopped referring to it that way. You were the one telling me people weren’t just one thing, which means I’m more than just my eating disorder.” 

Ginnie’s face softened and she glanced down at the brochure again. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be doing that. I just worry about you so much, and…” She sighed. “Joey, do you really want this? Is it your top school? What if you don’t get in?”

Joe inhaled. This was the moment. 

“I already have.” When Ginnie fell silent, Joe plowed on. “I applied, I sent in an audition tape months ago, I got the acceptance letter last week.” And he placed it on the table, watching as Ginnie skimmed it with trembling fingers. “Please, Mom. I want this. You raised us to be independent, and just because I got sick doesn’t mean I’m not anymore. You’re the one who told me to pursue college and I am, just not in New York. I don’t think I can stay here right now with everything that happened, I need a change.”

Ginnie was gobsmacked, still reading the letter and once she finished, she placed it down. “Joe...I’m so proud of you. Really, I am. This is incredible. And if this is what you want, then...let’s talk about it first before we make that decision, okay? Can we do that?” 

“You’re not saying no, right?” 

“I’m not saying no, but I’m not saying yes yet either.” 

Joe sighed with relief. “I can work with that.” 

\---

USC was a freeing experience. It felt good to be known here not as Joe Mazzello, dancer; but rather Joe Mazzello, actor. People knew him from Jurassic Park and a handful of other film credits, but for the most part, they respected him as one of their peers and that was it. He was just another student, trying to get his degree. No competition, no endless hours of crafting perfection. No tweaking things constantly, because sometimes the quirks that made someone who they were, made the character who they were. And most importantly, he wasn’t anywhere near New York. 

Joe felt like he could breathe. 

His mother hadn’t been too sure of it at first, but as time went on and he started healing, truly healing, she couldn’t deny the move had done wonders for him. He still talked to his therapist over the phone, so they were able to keep in touch that way, which Joe was grateful for. He enjoyed the classes, found himself able to make friends who became collaborators rather than competitors. The change of pace had been exactly what he needed. 

Over the course of his professional education, he acted in a handful of plays, numerous student films, and was an extra on set for a Paramount film. By the time graduation was rolling around, he had a nice resume lining the back of his headshot to send out to agents and casting directors. And he did get callbacks, thankfully. His old agent contacted him, expressing interests in signing him again as an adult. He got his SAG card renewed. For the first time since quitting ballet, he felt like his life was heading in a direction he could get behind. 

He still kept his shoes with him, even in California. It was something he couldn’t bear to part with; a memento, a reminder of a past life that no longer belonged to him. Which was ironic in a lot of ways, he thought. Holding onto his shoes made him mourn, seeing them filled him with a sense of longing and regret, but they also held a sense of accomplishment. A quiet fondness for his first love. 

_You did this_ , they said to him from the corner of the closet. _And you don’t have to give it up entirely._

Joe thought about them more than he cared to admit. 

One day, months after graduation and small time roles, Josh called him with news. “Steven called me when he learned I’d signed you again. He sounded excited to know you’re back acting again.” 

“Steven?” 

“Spielberg, Joe. Steven Spielberg. He’s got a new project in the works with Tom Hanks, an miniseries for HBO. He wants you to audition.” 

_Jesus Christ._

“What?” Joe choked out. “When? And where?”

“Friday, Silverman Studios. I’ll send you the details and the sides. Joe, I don’t need to tell you how huge this is.” 

“You don’t,” Joe said quickly. “I’ll be there.” 

Friday. That was two days from now. Joe had never raced home to his apartment faster in his life. He spent the next 24 hours going over his audition, researching all he could about a man named Eugene Sledge. By the end of it, he only knew one thing: he would get this role. 

“Joey!” Steven walked over to hug him, and Joe grinned, thankful that Steven still remembered him with enough fondness for a nickname. “You’re looking good.” 

“Hi Steven,” Joe said, suddenly feeling like he was nine again. He peered around Steven’s arm to see Tom Hanks observing him with keen interest. “Hello, Mr. Hanks. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well, Joe,” Tom said in his warm, low, soothing tambre, and Joe knew everything he’d ever heard about Tom Hanks to be true in that moment. “Shall we get started?”

\---

Australia was a whole other world of sweat, heat, sandy beaches and the strangest looking creatures Joe had ever seen in his life. HBO had put him and his castmates in the equivalent of dorms for the duration of filming, complex houses that let him wander from room to room saying hello at strange hours. No one ever slept during shoots anyway, and when it was a shoot full of twenty-somethings that were given complementary cases of beer, well...HBO should have expected some damage, Joe thought. 

By week two the training was so intense Joe couldn’t remember a time when he had done anything in his life other than prepare for this role. Alarms woke him and his castmates at 4am for drills, he spent hours at the practice range, firing round after round. It was unlike anything Joe had ever done in his life, a far cry from ballet tights and physical therapy. In a way, he appreciated that it was so difficult, it pushed him in a way that he could get behind, it allowed him to sink right into it because it gave him no other choice than to give it his all. 

His co-stars were great too, and he was glad they all got along. He knew that a job like this one couldn’t allow for any of them to dislike each other, and he was glad that none of them did. A show with this much intensity called for them being able to rely on each other, and rely on each other they did. And while all of them were close-there was no doubt in that, with copious game nights and drunken antics-there were some more than others who he became close to, due to the nature of their roles. 

Like Rami. 

Joe had met Rami Malek when he had first come in to audition, but they had barely spoken two words then. Now, seeing the tiny, curly haired, scrawny boy lounging on his bed like he had been there for weeks, Joe’s immediate thought, like it always was when it came to Rami, was “ _my god, he’s gorgeous._ ” 

Then Rami caught his eye and walked over, lanky and bright eyed and he held his hand out for Joe to shake. “Hi, you must be Joe,” he said with a charming lazy drawl, and even more charming smile. “I’m Rami. Nice to meet you again.” 

“Rami,” Joe said easily, rolling the name over his tongue and deciding he liked it. He clasped Rami’s hand eagerly. “I’m really glad they brought you on board, you were great. You ready for this?” 

Rami looked around, staring at the sandy beach and clear blue waters, then at the rows of rifles and costumes off to the side. “Ready as I’ll ever be. You?”

“Nah man, not in the least. I’m shitting myself.” 

Rami laughed. “Well, you have the upper hand over all of us, you’ve worked with Steven before. You’ll still be here if we all fuck this up royally and get fired.”

“I appreciate that,” Joe snorted. “I’ll certainly need your vote of confidence.” 

“Well,” Rami smiled good-naturedly. “You’ve got it. Listen, some of the guys are planning a night out tonight after rehearsals. You want in?”

Joe shifted, staring at Rami’s curly hair. “I’ll think about it.”

The sound of a sharp whistle pierced through the air, and Rami sighed. 

“Back to work,” he murmured and he winked at Joe. “Please do think about it, the meantime. See you out there, Mazzello.”

\---

He was fucked. He shouldn’t have a crush on a co-star who he barely knew, but here he was. Joe was so fucked. 

Rami was _charming_. Rami was witty, and funny, and audacious, and warm and outgoing; all the things Joe wished he could be. He got along with everyone, remembered everyone’s names from the get go and was more hardworking than anyone on set. Also more talented than anyone by a long shot, and was incredibly humble about it. He and Joe connected faster than anyone Joe has ever met in his life, like he Rami knew each other from a past lifetime and now had come back together. It was easy being around him. Joe was smitten, and he couldn’t afford to be. 

But he was lucky that he didn’t have time to think about it. The shoot took up all his energy, and the topic of what they were portraying sobered him enough that most nights all he wanted to do was go back to his room and sleep. In the quieter moments when the shoot became too much, he laid awake at night, wishing he were home. Anything to remind him of home. He could call his family of course, they would certainly be awake, but he didn’t feel up to talking. He wanted...he didn’t know what he wanted. 

Rolling out of bed, he sat on the floor before settling his hips and slowly stretching his legs out, testing his flexibility. He hadn’t stretched, hadn’t danced, hadn’t done any sort of ballet related activity in roughly seven years now, and yet here he was, his body accommodating itself to stretch into a split as if he’d never left it behind. Tears sprung into his eyes unexpectedly. He’d never expected to get this point: healthy and happy, acting for a living, and bringing something as simple as a split back into his life. He thought he lost all of his flexibility, but here it still was, out of some miraculous reason. What his mother said to him all those years ago right when he had left his professional life behind sprung into his head. 

_Just because you’re not dancing right now doesn’t mean you’ll never dance again._

All of that seemed like another lifetime ago now.

His heart ached in the best way, and he snapped a picture on his phone to send to her. 

“You’re in a good mood,” Rami stood outside his door the next evening, still in his uniform, covered in grime and mud, his face bloody with scratches that Joe had a sneaking suspicion were not makeup. 

Joe grinned. “Hi to you, too. And well...yeah, I am. Is that...why, is that weird? I know this isn’t the lightest of shows.”

“No,” Rami shook his head, crossing his arms. He was still coming out of Snafu, his Cajun accent slowly dripping out of him with each passing second. “It’s just nice to see, is all.”

Joe blushed, because that’s what Rami did to him. “Thanks, I think. Listen, uh...are you free now? The guys are great and they invited me out, but...I’m not really feeling all that company. I thought we could maybe hang out? It’s been a while since it was just the two of us.” 

_Wow, way to make that sound terrible. Nice going, Mazzello._

But Rami smiled, staring at him a moment longer. “Give me some time to get changed and I’ll be right over. Say, an hour?” 

“Sounds good.”

True to his word, Rami showed up an hour later with a bottle of tequila and one of the complimentary cases of beer that had somehow remained unfinished all this time. “I bring friends.”

“Good friends,” Joe said, propping the door open with his foot and examining the bottle of tequila with interest. “ _Very_ nice to meet you. We’ll get well acquainted, I’m sure.”

They didn’t get drunk, but they did get nicely buzzed and after three hours together, were laughing and cuddling on the same bed like they’d grown up together and known each other for years rather than weeks. They’d forgone conversation long ago, content to lay there in their tipsy state in silence instead. When Joe craned his neck to the left to look at Rami, Rami was already staring right back, his luminous eyes wide and unwavering.

“Joe,” he whispered, and Joe moved without thinking, pressing his lips against Rami’s briefly. He blamed it on the alcohol, but knew there wasn’t enough in his system for that. He felt Rami tense, but he kissed back and Joe pulled away almost instantly, staring at Rami until words came back to him. 

“Shit, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m sorry-”

Rami laughed softly. “Joseph,” he said with fondness, taking Joe’s arm to pull him closer. “Shut up.” And he kissed back again, pressing their lips together experimentally. Soon they were melting into it, making out on Joe’s teeny cot under the hot Australian sun, the sound of beach waves the soundtrack to their romance. Joe pulled back and stared, gobsmacked. 

“I...you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Rami, to his fascination, blushed. “You have no idea how long I’ve _waited_ for you to do that.” 

“Well,” Joe smiled, and Rami was kissing him again, his lips dry and chapped, but warm all the same. “So sorry to keep you waiting. Hopefully this makes up for it?”

Rami smiled at him, a toothy grin with olive-toned dimples. “I don’t know, we might have to try some more for me to make a decision.” And Joe laughed, leaning their foreheads together. 

“Fine by me.” 

“Good,” Rami whispered, and his eyes fluttered closed. “Then kiss me again.” 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, we made it! I'm sorry the wait for this was so long, writing this was giving me trouble because I couldn't figure out where I wanted certain things to go, and I'm still not entirely pleased with it. It's a bit of a filler chapter, but we do get more of Joe's mindset on things, and he's acting now! Please let know what you think, as always, comments are always appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rami finds out that Joe dances, in the most unsuspecting of ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's baaaack! If you're still around reading this, thank you a million times over.

Joe couldn’t believe the trajectory his life had taken sometimes. 15 years since he quit ballet professionally. 12 years since he started acting professionally and was now his career. 11 years since he had met Rami. Almost five years since he and Rami started dating. 

Rami. Joe couldn’t believe that either. 

Joe couldn’t believe that someone like Rami had entered his life and _stayed_ , stayed by his side for four years now, and shared an apartment with him in New York City. That they went from best friends of five years, to dating and still best friends, to complete and utterly in love with one another. Joe had neve been so smitten for another human being, just thinking about Rami made him blush, something that everyone loved to tease him for. 

Getting to work with Rami again not only as a co-star, but as boyfriends was a dream come true. They’d always talked about wanting to work together again in some capacity, and Bohemian Rhapsody was a dream movie, and watching Rami transform into Freddie was the icing on the cake. Joe was there for the long nights of shooting Mr. Robot and in between, working with Polly on Freddie’s mannerisms. Joe watched little by little as the months went by, as Rami would disappear and Freddie would emerge from somewhere inside Rami’s body, completely capturing him. Joe never failed to be enamoured by Rami’s process, the long nights of watching as Rami sat in the dark, reading up everything he could, going into the deepest recesses of his mind, completely in awe of his talent. 

It was no secret that Joe adored Rami. It was no secret to anyone that they were inseparable after being in each other’s lives for a decade. It was no secret that they told each other everything, were best friends and were going to get married one day. 

But Joe did have one pretty big secret. One he wasn’t ready to let go of yet. 

\---

They were in Hyde Park, visiting Joe’s mom for the weekend, when Joe had pulled Ginnie aside early that morning to ask for the keys for the studio. He wasn’t expecting the question to come out of his mouth, and the way Ginnie did a double take, she wasn’t expecting it either. 

“The studio?”

“Yeah,” Joe rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I just...I don’t know. I don’t mind going. I actually-I bought a new pair of shoes over the weekend. Thought I might...might stretch, or something.” 

“Joe,” Ginnie breathed, and she beamed. “That’s wonderful! Of-of course you can. Do you want me to go with you? Will you be alright?”

“Mom, I’m dancing, not walking through fire,” Joe laughed, bringing her in for a hug. “I’ll be fine, but thank you. If Rami asks, just tell him I’m in the studio and to text me.” 

“Does he not know?”

“Uh,” and Joe bit his lip, shaking his head. “He doesn’t, no. I haven't...haven’t quite worked up how to tell him just yet.”

“Why not?”

Joe shrugged, but he knew exactly why.

“Joe,” Ginnie sighed. “He won’t judge you. You know he won’t. He played Freddie Mercury, you really think he would dislike it if you danced? You’re incredibly talented, sweetheart, he’ll be so amazed.”

“I know,” Joe sighed. “I know. I love him so much and I want to tell him. I’m just afraid...he’ll walk away or something. It’s stupid, I know.”

“Not stupid,” Ginnie corrected. “Irrational, but not stupid. He would want to know, Joe. He won’t love you any less for it, believe me.”

Joe nodded and swallowed. “Yeah, I know. I’ll work on it. Can I get the keys?”

An hour later, Joe walked around the old studio with a sense of revered energy, the space was empty because it was Sunday and there were no classes. He’d grown up here, knew every staff member, had spent every afternoon here after school hours, watching, observing, training, and then because he often was the last one out, mopping the floors. This place had made him who he was, most of his childhood was constructed within this building, and Joe never felt more nostalgic walking around. 

He turned the knob to Studio A, and inhaled when he saw the mirrors lining the walls, the barre nailed along the sides, and smelt the musty scent of leather and wood. He instantly felt himself relax as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, toeing off his sneakers, and walked across to the wooden floor to the barre. The tension leaked out of his shoulders almost instantly; he was _home_. As long as it had been since he had put on a pair of ballet slippers, this feeling had never left him, it was intrinsically ingrained in him. He couldn’t explain the sudden need to dance again, or why he’d gone out and bought a new pair of shoes when he and Rami decided to come up here for the weekend; as if Manhattan didn’t have a thousand dance studios littered across the blocks that he could use at his disposal.

There wasn’t anything like home, though. 

Opening his laptop, he opened up a Spotify playlist, the one he used for stretching, and checked his phone, seeing a quick text from Rami.

“ _How’s the writing going?_ ”

Rami thought he booked the studio space because he was under the impression that Joe liked to use the open rooms as inspiration for scripts, and Joe was all too happy to let Rami continue believing that. 

_“It’s going well! I just got here actually, so I’ll see you in a bit? let me know when you’re heading out._ ” He added a heart emoji at the end and hit send, before placing his phone down and making his way back to the barre. He relaxed momentarily as he let the music seep into his brain, before his training took over.

First position, demi plie, up to releve, hold for four...switch to second position, down to grand plie, hold for four and back up...

This was home.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed as he went through the routine, all he knew was the stretch felt good despite not being able to go as far as he normally could. He was a little rusty as he worked through the movements, but it was to be expected, and nothing that couldn’t be fixed over time. He hadn’t done this since his set days of BoRhap, after all. 

It all came to a screeching halt as a flash of curly, black hair caught the corner of his peripheral vision, and Joe choked, horrified when he saw who it was.

“ _Rami?!_ ”

Sure enough, it was, he was perched in the corner, clearly trying not to disturb Joe, giving him a small smile that was meant to reassure Joe, but did anything but. 

Joe couldn’t breathe. He took a step back as Rami stood up from the corner and took a step forward, his hands up in surrender. “It’s okay, Joe. It’s just me.” Joe felt his body lean against the wall and he stared, his eyes welling up with tears, positive Rami would hate him now. 

But Rami didn’t look like he hated him. In fact, he was smiling now, like Joe was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“Rami…I…” But Joe couldn’t bring himself to explain, not when he was sinking into a state of panic. 

Rami took a seat on the floor across from him, crossing his legs as he waited with his chin in his palm. “It’s okay, Joey,” he said again. “I’m not-I don’t think you’re weird or anything, or stupid for dancing. I think you’re extremely talented and beautiful to watch.” 

Joe sobbed. “Really?”

“Really,” Rami nodded softly. “I only wish-how come you never told me?”

_That was a loaded question._

Joe sighed and looked away for a long minute, fiddling with his hands, wondering how to phrase it. 

“I’m not mad,” Rami said. “Just...confused. And a little hurt that you felt you had to hide it, but I understand why you did. You can talk to me, I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” Joe whispered, and Rami shook his head, scooting an inch closer to Joe. 

“Don’t be. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I’m sorry!” 

He was truly panicking now, chest heaving as he sobbed, and his hands shaking. He was sure Rami would leave now, like they always did when they found out, but he didn’t want Rami to leave, Rami was his best friend, Joe loved him more than anything and now-

“Joe, breathe.”

Rami was right in front of him then, cupping Joe’s cheek with his palm and caressing gently with his thumb. “Breathe, Joey, it’s ok. We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, but I do need you to take a deep breath.”

Joe inhaled shakily, feeling the air flow throughout his body and he sobbed slightly, doing it a second time, listening to Rami’s low murmurs of praise. When he was calm enough, he leaned into Rami’s chest, smiling slightly at the way Rami’s arms automatically came up to hug him, rubbing his back softly. He waited a few minutes, taking the time to figure out what he wanted to say. 

“I just told you...that my parents owned this studio and that is true. But what I never told you was that I trained here, in ballet.” Joe took another deep breath, feeling Rami rub his back more.

“You don’t have to do this, Joe.”

“No, I want to,” Joe whispered. “You should know, I should have told you a long time ago and I’m sorry I didn’t.” He felt Rami nod. “I didn’t just take class once a week, it was serious training that happened everyday after school from the time I was eight until I was fourteen. I took a year or so off to film obviously, but I would still find a corner on set to stretch or a chair to use as a barre. And then when I was fifteen I was enrolled in the Joffrey School of Ballet, in the west village, and that was my full time schooling. I went to ballet school for high school, which is pretty wild now that I think about it.” 

“That’s impressive is what it is,” Rami amended. “There’s really not a lot of people who can say they did that.” 

Joe smiled a little and he felt Rami interlace their fingers together. “When I was...eighteen, I got accepted as an apprentice into American Ballet Theatre, which is the first step towards becoming a professional dancer, and in the dance world, is a big deal. Apprentices are kind of like internships, and they’re usually for a year or two and then if they like you, you’re given a contract to start in the Corpse de Ballet, which is the lowest ranking in the main company.” He swallowed. “They told me...they told me I had it. I could go all the way to principal dancer one day, if I worked at it, because they could see it for me.” 

Rami squeezed his hand. “What happened?”

“I…” Joe stared at the ceiling, because it was still painful to think about almost fifteen years later. “I, uh...I developed anorexia.” He heard Rami suck in a breath. “I know that sounds common or whatever, but it was horrible. I was miserable all the time, I was sick and depressed and got to a point where I didn’t want to dance anymore. It was...it was the best time of my life and I’m so proud of it, but it was the worst time. I was in so much pain and it got to a point where it wasn’t worth it anymore.” 

“I can imagine.”

“I couldn’t do it,” Joe shook his head. “I didn’t want to dance, I didn’t want to live, I didn’t want to do anything. I just wanted to be so thin and be the best, but at the same time, I didn’t want to exist.” He paused. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. It’s lonely.” 

Rami squeezed him tighter, hugging him then, and when he looked over, Rami was blinking back tears with such a look of sorrow on his face. 

“Oh,” Joe stammered. “It’s-I’m ok now.”

“Still,” Rami sighs as he swipes at his tears. “I hate picturing that. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Mental illness is lonely and sucks and I’m just..you were so young too.”

Joe smiles sadly. “God, you’re sweet.”

“It’s true.”

“You’re still sweet. You’re upset about something that happened nearly twenty years ago.” 

Rami looked at him, studying his face. “But so are you. It still hurts, right?”

Joe sighed. “Yeah. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t. I’ve made peace with it now, but sometimes I wonder what could’ve been. But then also,” and he smiled softly at Rami. “I never would’ve met you if I’d stayed there. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.” Rami blushed, leaning in to brush their lips together, and Joe reached for his phone, scrolling through his camera roll to find the videos he hadn’t looked at in years, but still kept for some reason anyway. “Here...these were all taken during my time there, I would film my rehearsals.” He pulled up one of the videos of his time at ABT. “This was the middle of the season. I felt the strongest then, because it was the peak of the season.” He watched as his younger self turn, looking so much like a lost version of himself that once was. His legs were strong, his arms graceful, his face the picture of someone fully in their element. Joe felt himself get emotional. Despite everything that happened, he still had no regrets about his ballet career. He loved it despite what it had put him through. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Rami said, startling Joe, who had forgotten Rami was there in the first place. 

Joe blushed. “Thanks.” They kept watching, Joe flipped to another one this time. “This was right before I left.” The change was stark in this one, anyone could clearly see how Joe was all but skin and bones, and he heard Rami gasp next to him. 

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” Joe said, idly thinking about how he thought he was managing to fool anyone, when looking at it now, he clearly wasn’t. “I don’t know how I was even functioning at that point. Adrenaline, I guess. And will-power.”

Rami leaned his head on Joe’s shoulder. “My god,” he said again. “I mean-you’re still incredible, I just...I’d hate knowing you were in so much pain. And...you were skinny during The Pacific, but this is...” 

"Yeah. I was recovered by that point, but boy was my mom worried about me when we were filming. She didn't need me to relapse, and I didn't either." Joe raised his hand to play with Rami’s curls absentmindedly as he watched, flipping to a video at the showcase. “This was the showcase we had to give to show we were worthy of joining the company. That’s me,” and he points to him and Kaitlyn, feeling a pang in his heart when he watches them together. “That’s my main partner.”

 _Kaitlyn_. She was a principal dancer with ABT now, Joe remembered seeing it on ABT’s Facebook when they announced it. He should really call her sometime. 

Rami whistled as he watched Joe lift Kaitlyn up, easy as breathing. “Wow. You’re so good.”

Joe smiled fondly. “She was the best. I haven’t spoken to her since I left, but she’s still there. She’s a principal.” 

If Rami heard the unspoken “ _and I might’ve been too, if I stayed,_ ” he didn’t mention it. “Have you...gone back?” 

“No, but I’ve thought about it.” Joe paused. “I sometimes worry it’ll be too much. I’ll get too heartbroken.”

Rami kept watching until the video ended and he looked up at Joe. “It might be nice. One day.” He squeezed Joe’s hand. 

Joe took a deep breath. “I’m..I’m sorry I never told you. I truly didn’t know what to think, I’ve been ridiculed for it before and I had to protect myself. Men dancing isn’t very common.”

“That’s okay, Joe.” Rami said. “I understand why you didn’t. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. In fact, it explains how quickly you picked up all those ballet stretches we had to do for Bohemian Rhapsody; Ben, Gwil and I thought it was crazy how good you were. We were so confused.” 

Joe laughed suddenly, feeling lighter, and Rami grinned. “Yeah, sorry. Those were nothing for me, I had to pretend to find it difficult instead of having done those everyday for almost 30 years.”

Rami laughed too. “So you were faking it?”

“Of course I was! I didn’t want you guys finding out about my other life!” 

“You’re a better actor than you give yourself credit for.” Rami chuckled more, and his eyes sparkled when he looked at Joe with adoration. “Joe..?”

Joe smiled too, leaning back against his elbows. “Yes?” 

“You can say no...but I’d be honored if you showed me something of what you can do.”

Joe stopped breathing. “Re-really? You want to?”

Rami nodded silently and then reiterated: “only if you want to. I don’t want to pressure you.”

Joe’s heart felt like it was going to thud out of his chest it was beating so hard. “I’m uh, I’m not as good as I used to be, fair warning.”

Rami smiled easily. “Well, that’s okay. I’ve never seen you dance, so I won’t know the difference. It’s all new to me.”

Joe blinked at that, and a warm soft feeling bloomed in his chest, ebbing away at the sheer panic he felt, like a wave crashing against the rocks and receding. He’d never felt such gratitude for Rami as he did now. “Okay.” And he leaned in to kiss him softly, before he stood up and went through his Spotify playlist for something to freestyle to. 

He had choreography in mind, he thought he would just run through a quick solo from Sleeping Beauty, but once the music started he couldn’t control where his body wanted to go. It felt so good just to _dance_ again, to not have to think about which steps were perfect or not. It was a freeing feeling to be in his body and just move the way he wanted. 

The song ended and Joe finished, letting the last few seconds of the moment wave over him and he laughed breezily once Rami started clapping and he looked over to see Rami beaming. 

Rami stood up to kiss him. “That was amazing! What do you mean, you’re not as good as you used to be?”

Joe laughed. “Well, I’m not.”

“Bullshit. I could watch you dance like that all day.”

Joe laughed more, blushing, internally relieved that Rami was ok with this. “Really?”

“Positively.” Rami smiled at him. “You’re stunning. I think I fell in love with you all over again.” 

Joe went silent and he smiled wobbly, feeling his chest constricting this time in gratitude and love for Rami, rather than fight or flight. He leaned in and brushed their lips together, melting into it as he and Rami took their time, getting lost in his old studio. The smell of wood and Rami’s cologne enveloped him, the sense of the word of what this was not lost on him. 

Home. This was home. 

\---

It wasn’t uncommon in the next few weeks and months for Rami to come home and find Joe stretching in their living room. Now that there was nothing to hide, Joe felt comfortable enough to stretch where he pleased, and he took smug pleasure in the way Rami would all but drool when he watched Joe’s body move gracefully, stretched out beyond what he knew was possible. Joe enjoyed showing off for him, loving the way that Rami would follow him into the dance studios he rented, sitting against the wall to watch, smiling like it was his favorite thing in the world. 

No one else had ever done that. No one else had ever taken an interest in his dancing the way that Rami had, and it made Joe overwhelmed with love. 

He loved this man so much it _hurt_. 

When he wasn’t auditioning for things, Joe spent his time dancing, reconnecting with the part of his life that he’d given up so long ago, though now he could see his mother and Lisa had been right all those years ago. 

Just because he didn’t dance professionally or he took a break from it, didn’t mean it wouldn’t find his way back into his life. Here he was, a professional actor, working on his penchés in his and Rami’s living room. All those years ago, he never would have believed it. 

It was astounding to him to see how quickly he fell in love with it again, though this time it was for the sake of being driven towards something. This time, it was dancing for the pure love of it, the joy it brought, and as an added bonus, keeping him in shape. He had his moments where the darker thoughts of his brain made an appearance, but he was comfortable in his skin enough these days to know how to deal with them. 

And it helped that Rami somehow seemed to always know when he was feeling down. He would know immediately when Joe was having a bad day, involuntarily suppressing his appetite before Joe even knew, because those coping mechanisms never went fully away. He took to keeping extra protein bars with him that he could hand to Joe at a moment’s notice when it had been a few hours since their last meal. He would pull Joe out of his head if he lived there too long, grounding him to the outside world with murmurs of affection and soothing words until Joe felt like he could breathe again. 

Joe was so grateful for him. 

“Rami?” 

Joe peered around the empty apartment, checking their bedroom, frowning in concern when Rami wasn’t there. Certainly, strange, considering Rami was home by now. Reaching for his phone, he went to text him, when he spotted the Capezio bag on the counter. He really did frown then; he hadn’t stepped foot into Capezio in months. 

Reaching into the bag, he found a pair of men's tan canvas shoes, the split soled ones that he liked, in his size, along with a note. 

“ _Noticed your shoes were decaying and torn, thought you might want new ones. I hope these work. I love you! -Rami_ ”

Joe felt his throat constrict. He _had_ needed new shoes, but kept putting it off because they weren’t a necessity in the slightest, and he’d been so busy with auditions, new shoes had slipped from his mind. But Rami had not only noticed, but remembered. Joe felt his eyes stinging. Rami, who didn’t know the first thing about ballet terminology or shoes and how they worked, had gone out of his way to buy Joe a pair because he knew how much they meant to him. Joe reached for his phone, tapping his messages to text Rami. 

“ _I love you. I love you. I love you.”_

_“Ah, found them? I love you too.”_

_“Rami, you really didn’t have to. This is too much.”_

_“Oh, shut up. I wanted to. I just hope they’re okay? I’m sorry, I wasn’t certain what to get.”_

_“They’re perfect.”_

They were perfect, as Joe sat on the floor of the rented studio space he booked, stretching. It would take a few days to break them in, but that wasn’t a problem. As he stood at the barre and worked through a warmup, he realized how nice it was to have shoes that could handle the brutality of ballet, especially the split sole. Joe didn’t often get the split sole because they were more expensive, but Rami hadn’t cared. God, Joe loved him.

Rami was home when Joe walked in, a takeout bag of Thai food on the counter, and he was browsing the menu they’d given. “Hey!”

Joe smiled and kissed him. “Hi.”

“Good day?” 

Joe reached to open one of the containers, picking at a piece of basil chicken. “Yeah, it was great. Thank you for the shoes, you really didn’t have to do that.”

Rami handed him a fork with a look that clearly said “ _don’t use your hands please._ ” “Your other ones were old! I wanted to.”

Joe reached for a second fork, handing it to Rami as they started munching right out of the containers, forgoing plates. “Well, thank you.” And he kissed Rami again, molding it into something more when Rami moaned, tugging at his curls.

When they parted, the food was forgotten as Rami chased his lips all over again. Moving them steadily to the bedroom he grabbed the back of Joe’s thighs and _lifted_ , prompting Joe to wrap his legs around Rami’s waist as Rami carried him effortlessly to the bedroom. 

Joe moaned. 

“Please-”

“Shh. I got you.”

They didn’t take long to remove each other’s clothes, and even though they had done this countless times it never took Rami’s breath away to see how flexible Joe truly was, watching in awe as Joe stretched his body out as if he had no bones. He choked when Joe settled into a split that looked far too uncomfortable to be normal, but Joe looked perfect at ease. 

“Oh, _fuck_.”

Joe winked. “That’s the plan.”

Rami fucked him hard and slow, a clashing of teeth and moans against each other’s neck, while he stroked Joe’s cock slowly and languidly, taking his time until they were both a whimpering mess. 

“Fuck, I love you. You feel so good.”

“Rami, please. _Please-_ ”

Rami sped up, knowing what Joe wanted, and he smirked when Joe let out a guttural groan. “Feel good?”

“Oh god, yes-”

Joe came first, nails digging into Rami’s back, a long stream of moans and gasps as his back arched off the bed, and it wasn’t long until Rami followed and they laid in together in a collapsed heap of gasps and sweat, a post-coital bliss. They laid in silence, listening to each other’s heartbeats, neither of them in any rush to move and cleanup. Joe kissed him again, soft and sweet this time. 

“I love you.”

“Love you too.” 

\---

The ABT spring season pamphlet was sitting with the stack of mail on the counter when Joe walked in, and he picked it up. “I didn’t think we still got these.”

“Hmm?” Rami looked over. “Ah. yeah, I guess they just sent it out to everyone? How was your meeting?”

Joe opened the brochure, looking over the repertoire curiously. “It was fine. I have a secondary audition in two days, they want to get me on tape even though I already auditioned.” He rolled his eyes at Rami’s look of incredulity. “Yeah, I know. It’s whatever, I’ll do it. You know how Hollywood is, they want three different auditions before they decide anything. It’s a good script, I want the part.”

“You’ll get it. If they want a second audition, you’ll get it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. You’re talented and incredible and you’re going to get this role.” 

Joe kissed him. “You’re the best. I’ll be in the room, I want to prepare a little more.”

“Okay. You hungry? You want dinner?”

“Nah,” Joe said, even though that was a lie. He was starving. “I ate earlier.”

“You sure?” Rami held his hands up when Joe gave him an exasperated look. “Alright, just asking. We’ve got food if you want any, help yourself.”

Joe smiled. “Thanks. Sorry, just nervous. You know how it is.”

Rami nodded. “You got this.” Joe nodded then. “You sure you’re okay? Can I help?”

God, Joe loved him. He didn't deserve to put up with Joe's shit. 

“No, I’m okay, I promise.” Joe slipped into their bedroom, looking over the ABT pamphlet again and checking the email he got from the casting director.

_“We think you’re perfect for this role, however the director is looking for someone who can slim down for the shoot. Would that be a problem?”_

Joe swallowed, his heart thudding. Would that be a problem? He wanted this role. 

“Not a problem,” he muttered as he typed out his reply. “I’m fine.” 

He hit send and waited. 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm so sorry this took so long to update, but after...*gestures wildly* 2020, I had almost no energy to write. This year has sucked all around. If you're somehow still miraculously with me, please let me know what you think of this chapter, because I'm a little iffy on it. I really hope you guys enjoy it. More to come, and as always, comments and kudos are so, so appreciated. 
> 
> Take care of yourselves. You need to now more than ever, and if no one has said it recently, I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> If you follow me on tumblr, you know how long I've been working on this story and how excited I am for it. Special thanks to the people who helped create this story, you're the best, and I wouldn't have gotten this far without you. Comments are so so appreciated, I'd love to hear what people think, as I wasn't sure I'd even post this today. I'm not sure how long this will go, but this story is so close to my heart and I'm excited to take the ride. Thank you for reading!


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